


Please, Love Me....

by allie_quinn



Series: The SoliMiller Collection [2]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, That's it, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allie_quinn/pseuds/allie_quinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: "i have a deep desire for more master miller/solid snake. o.o — anonymous"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please, Love Me....

“Honestly, kid, does it  _matter!?”_

They’re a mismatched pair in the grocery store, standing equal height and huddled at the shoulders. Fur-lined parkas make them look like wolves over a kill, but what’s in their hands is anything but a carcass.

“I gotta make sure there’s not peanuts in it,” David argues, and the Hell Master throws his arms in the air. 

“You ate peanuts all the time in training, didn’t you!?”

“Yeah, and I got sick all the time!”

Kaz’s bionic hand shoots out and snatches the bag of granola from his trainee-turned-lover, flipping it over and scanning the ingredients quickly. “I don’t see peanuts, David, let’s just buy it and go.”

Those blue eyes Kaz loves so are narrowed and unimpressed, but he’s grown tired of these fluorescents and cold tiles. He wants to go home, wants to cook Dave the dinner he’s carefully constructed in the slow cooker…wants to fuck his partner senseless on a full stomach and soft sheets.

A soft kiss on his scraggly cheek eases some of his irritation, though a woman down the aisle clucking at the pair manages to balance him  _right the fuck back out._

“Easy, babe,” David soothes, and Kaz doesn’t even mind that he’s been called a pet name in public. “You’re right, let’s go home. We have dinner plans to get to.”

**

Caribou stew is already a great dish, but the fact that he brought down this animal himself warms David’s stomach and chest even more. He sits between Kaz’s knees, back braced against a bare chest, eating quietly and watching snow fall.

“Good?”

The older man has been cooking for him for months now, but still feels the need to seek David’s approval. Perhaps it’s insecurity over David dismissing food in the same way his father had, but the young heart still hammered when such care and love was placed into every meal. 

“Delicious,” he answers happily, through a mouthful of food. He chews for a moment, soft bites melting in his mouth with flavors too bright for this tundra, then swallows and adds, “I love everything you make.”

There are arms around his shoulders now, and an appreciative little hum in the crown of his hair. Kaz always does this, these little hugs and touches that thank David for not being like so many people before. It’s a wonder that a man who strays from terms like “boyfriend” and “lover,” in favor of “kid” and “my guy,” manages to be so affectionate.

(David won’t mention to anyone the way his heart flutters when Miller orders “a beer apiece for me and my guy”)

Something–a question?–is murmured into his hair, and Dave tilts back his head for clarification with a soft “hmm?” They don’t speak much when it’s just the two of them, and they’re comfortable that way; when words are exchanged, they mean something.

“I said,” Kaz repeats, though he’s looking away and Dave can see a familiar flush creeping out from under the aviators, “You love what I make, but…nevermind.”

“Tell me,” he prods playfully, setting his bowl on the coffee table and turning to face his Hell Master. “C’mon, Kazuhira.”

He never calls him “Kaz,” because he knows his voice is identical to the father that shredded this man. He doesn’t call him “Master” because he’s been ordered not to. All he has left is pet names and a full name, and Dave adores the jumble of consonants that he has learned to effortlessly carry in his mouth.

Kaz is scarlet now, in the tips of his ears and the tip of his nose, and it doesn’t take Dave long to figure out the question.

_You love what I make for you, but do you love **me?**_

“I’m here,” the solider assures, in the gentlest tone he can muster. He wishes any voice on earth right now, any one but the father’s that comes tumbling from his throat. He’s sure it pains Kaz to hear these words in that voice, so he softens his tone and heightens his pitch–anything to relieve the harsh grate of Big Boss. “I’m right here.”  
  
Kaz trembles for a moment, then pulls his protege into a heady, deep kiss. He repeats that three-word spell against David’s mouth, allowing himself to feel for the first time in many years.

“Please love me,” he begs, metallic fingers desperately clutching at Dave’s shirt; lips brushing the younger’s own. “Please, for Christ’s sake, just…love me. I've loved a lot, David, with no love in return. This is all I want from you.”

“Silly old Kazuhira,” comes the laugh, followed closely by a hand to his hair and a wry chuckle. There’s a long pause, and David takes the Master’s hands in his own before smiling.

“I’ve  _been_  loving you.”


End file.
